


All Hope and No Pawns

by ForASecondThereWedWon



Series: Oh my god, they were checkmates... [9]
Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Gen, Jealousy, Missing Scene, Pining, Strategy & Tactics, THE BOYS ARE GOSSIPINGGGG, Team Dynamics, Tension, assumes only Beth knows that Townes isn't straight, in ep. 7: End Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27943538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForASecondThereWedWon/pseuds/ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary: A missing scene from Benny's apartment after the phone call to Beth in Moscow.
Relationships: Past Beth Harmon/Benny Watts, past Harry Beltik/Beth Harmon
Series: Oh my god, they were checkmates... [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020483
Comments: 48
Kudos: 357





	All Hope and No Pawns

**Author's Note:**

> _Are you afraid of what you might want to do/Or is reality hard for you?_ \- Sly and the Family Stone
> 
> Thanks to an anonymous Tumblr prompter who requested a fic in which Benny and Harry find out about each other's romantic history with Beth!

“Go beat him,” Benny urges.

When he drops the receiver back into its cradle, he unconsciously continues to grip it. His adrenaline’s spiked, his head’s lowered—for all his corporeal clues, it might be him about to face Borgov. There’s even a chessboard before him, styled with the final permutation he and the boys teased out from Beth and Borgov’s positions at the time of adjournment. Only so many ways this can go now. Damn, he just wishes he could watch it happen.

With a final squeeze, he releases the phone and steps away, rubbing a hand thoughtfully across his chin. He’s still uncomfortable moving too far from the phone. Crazy, since it could be hours before the match is decided. As Benny emerges from the depths of his own thoughts, he can hear the others, talking lowly and pacing while the excitement of blurting strategy down the line to Beth burns through them. It won’t last; soon, they’ll be crashing while he makes himself yet another cup of coffee, determined to stay awake. Another of today’s senseless notions: that his ability to remain sharp will somehow help Beth do the same.

He returns. He resets the board and plays out one possibility, all the way through to the fallen king. It makes him feel better. To drown out a skeptical note in Matt’s voice behind him, Benny collects the pieces in his hand and rolls them around, listening to the wood knock. He puts them in formation and plays through another version, searching the arrangement for gaps and his brain for the memory of Beth’s instincts. During their time together, starting with training and turning into… well, she learned to beat him faster and more soundly, but he learned a thing or two as well. Although the way Beth plays is still opaque and elusive, Benny has a sort of feel for it. He studies the board and tries to grip that old conviction of his—she sees things the same way he does.

“Will she call herself, do you think?” Hilton asks, tone as buoyant as ever.

“No,” Benny sighs. He turns away from the board. “She’ll be swarmed when it’s over.”

He doesn’t specify an outcome. The fucking Soviet players make him superstitious.

“She’ll have that asshole from the State Department with her too,” Mike says. “He’ll keep her on a short leash.”

“He’ll try,” Benny counters, provoking chuckles.

“Well, maybe Townes’ll stay between them,” Matt theorizes. “He managed it this morning.”

“Maybe Mr. State Department thought they were doing something he would’ve blushed to interrupt,” Hilton says.

“Beth and Townes?” Benny asks scornfully.

There’s no chance. He and Townes spoke before Townes flew out there, when he agreed to smooth the way for Benny’s call to get through without interception by Beth’s official government handler. Townes didn’t try to pull any bullshit territoriality where Beth was concerned—and he didn’t flinch when Benny did. (He hadn’t _meant_ to, but a whole string of things had left his mouth as he verbally worked through his tips and encouragements for Beth, immediately afterwards hoping that Townes wouldn’t pass any of it on.)

“Aren’t they… close?”

“We shouldn’t be talking about them like this,” Harry says firmly. “Especially Beth.”

“If either of them has feelings for the other, it’s Beth,” Mike says.

“It’s true,” Matt adds, backing his brother up. “We were there when they met, more or less. She had such a crush on him.”

Benny frowns.

“Guys,” Harry pleads.

“Nobody’s saying anything against either of them! But don’t you think Townes is her type?”

“No.” Benny and Harry speak the same adamant syllable at the same moment.

Benny’s never wanted attention less than he does in the seconds immediately following, when the others’ eyes bounce back and forth between him and Harry. He twitches his wrist so his bracelet slides around it.

“Early lunch?” Matt tactfully proposes.

The rest of them mumble their assent and file towards the door, grabbing hats and jackets, stomping feet into shoes. Even Harry takes a couple steps. Just a couple.

“Are you coming?” he asks.

“Absolutely not,” Benny tells him, holding his ground.

Harry turns and nods to Mike, relieving him of the task of holding the door open. It’s a strange jerk of the chin, almost mournful, like he’s signaling to someone to go on ahead to the funeral reception while he lingers by the grave as the diggers fill it in. Now, Benny doesn’t have any plans to put this guy six feet under, but the implications of Harry having such a ready opinion on the sort of man Beth goes for aren’t exactly the kind to make Benny leap joyfully around his apartment. He exhales steadily from his nose.

“I heard you were training her,” he begins when they’re alone.

Harry—to his credit—doesn’t cower. He straightens his back and faces Benny directly.

“For a little while. Of course, she’d eclipsed me before we ever began, but I’d read more books.” He laughs softly to himself. “Not many more. A few.”

“I told Beth she needed a more mature trainer to get her ready for Paris.” Benny cocks his head as his teeth grind together. “Obviously, your time with her was plenty mature.”

“That’s not any of your business.”

Where Benny would keep his gaze trained on his (he hesitates to use the word ‘rival’) guest as things teeter between _polite_ and _heated_ , Harry looks away. It’s unnerving, actually, how he glances calmly around the apartment like a prospective renter. Must be seeing the space they’ve all been sequestered in for hours with fresh eyes.

“She’s been here,” he concludes.

“After Ohio.”

“Ah. After she beat you. And when she got here, I’m sure she kept beating you.” He doesn’t seem to mean it maliciously, so Benny doesn’t interject. “She beat me a lot too. It made her frustrated with me. I got over that. Mostly.”

“I’m not even close. To getting over it,” Benny clarifies.

He meets the stare of Harry’s round eyes with his hands on his hips and wonders if he’s just put himself in a bad position, presented a vulnerability to be exploited. Harry could miss it, like he missed his chance to take the Lexington final back from Beth when she castled. But then, Harry could also be more sensitive to human interactions than he is to astute pawn placement.

“That makes sense,” Harry allows. “You two are much more evenly matched.”

So, he _is_ aware that they’re not really talking about chess.

“What was your mistake?” Benny surprises himself by asking. Harry looks surprised too, but Benny shrugs.

“It was a… visualization problem. I never knew what was coming with her and gave my own plan away too early. Do you love her?”

Benny places a hand on the table to anchor himself against the blunt question. Jesus, Harry does have an issue with subtlety.

“Yeah,” he admits after a solid minute. “I might.”

“Does she love you?”

Blow after blow with this guy, trying to take him to the canvas like he’s Muhammad Ali! Best Benny can guess, it’s a petty hit from someone who knows he’s already lost. Harry doesn’t want Beth because he knows he’s not gonna get her, but his question has this insulting presupposition—there’s just something in his tone that assumes a certain answer. It’s a last wild swing at the man who could still have a shot at the happiness Harry wanted for himself. Though Benny watches him warily, there’s nothing he can do, no way to regain his mystery. They’ve circled each other and determined the major weaknesses.

Benny shakes his head.

“That’s the one thing I don’t know.”

Harry regards him too long, then shrugs his coat on. He climbs the stairs unhurriedly and goes out after Hilton and the other members of Beth’s emergency chess contingent. A group of fools who are probably deceiving themselves to think they’re providing her with anything she couldn’t figure out on her own. She’s exceptional. She’s beat them all before; that’s why it’s her over there in Moscow and not one of them. So many, many invariable miles and possible outcomes from here.

Benny makes a fresh pot of coffee and takes a seat by the phone.


End file.
